


Ganbatte!

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Gleeful destructive madness, Patch 5.4: Futures Rewritten Spoilers, please look forward to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: Fandaniel muses upon the change that the demise of the Unsundered has wrought in his life and outlook.  Specifically, he finds himself for once looking forward to the future in taut anticipation.This was born from a prompt asking what people are looking forward to over the next year... and as it just so happens, I'm quite excited to see what Fandaniel has in store for us~
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Ganbatte!

It was a rare thing, perhaps, a special thing even, to look forward to the future.

For Fandaniel, at least, it felt unusual. But all the same, he found himself humming a jaunty tune here, moving with bounce in his steps at one moment, smiling with true pleasure in another. And how could he not?

Things were going so  _ delightfully _ according to plan.

The piles, his wonderful energy-radiant devices, were operating  _ just _ as intended. Oh, how he had laughed, had (in all honesty)  _ chortled _ to see the brave, foolish scouts venturing out to inspect them, to no doubt try and dismantle them.

Alas, it was not to be. He had anticipated the eventuality and accounted for it. Oh yes, all was going  _ frighteningly _ well.

“Heh. Hehehe!” Grinning, he slapped his thigh. No one else was around to enjoy his joke, but he wasn’t  _ about _ to let that stop him. “Frighteningly!  _ Frighteningly _ well! Ahh…”

And the so-called Warrior of Light, of course, had no idea. ‘Twould be a lie to claim he hadn’t greatly enjoyed watching (from a  _ safe _ distance, of course) as the vaunted hero stared out in perplexed concern at the “towers” as though sheer force of will might solve the mystery of their purpose.

He grinned, performing a little twirl at the memory. “Alas” was rapidly becoming a favorite word. Alas! The hero could not divine their workings simply by looking. And—half regrettably and half fortunately—the Echo would likely keep  _ any _ so blessed (heh) far from the devices, a pure function of instinct.

Truly, all was falling perfectly into place.

And soon, he would have the chance, so  _ long _ awaited, to directly compare his secondhand memories of the Final Days to a very real and very  _ dangerous _ replica. Already he could feel the next beast gestating, feel the collective fears of the masses winding together into a semicoherent (and oh-so-horrible) creation of the subconscious. He rubbed his hands, glee warming him as he grinned.

He couldn’t wait to see it.

Of course, it all served his patron, which was well and nice, but in truth Fandaniel considered himself a pure artist—in the sense that, so long as he was capable, he would ply his craft with or without appreciative audience. Though he could not deny that both his corpus’s role and, later, Lord Zenos’s status and martial skill certainly made things  _ much _ easier. How much faster he could bring the end, after all, with a few terrified legions to do his master’s bidding? Yes, he mused, there was an artistry to these things.

But now the stage was set. The players had their scripts, the lights were trained upon the main actors.

And all that remained? Was to wait.

Oh yes… He was indeed looking forward to this.


End file.
